


Let the Stars Keep Track of Us

by Draco_sollicitus



Series: Short but Sometimes Sweet: Damerey Collection [18]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Architect Rey, F/M, Fighter Pilot Poe, Fluff, Military Spouse, Modern AU, Reunion, air force au, christmas in july
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: Poe Dameron won't be home for Christmas, but Rey tries to keep her spirits up for both her son and herself. She'd known what she was getting herself into, technically, when she married a fighter pilot, but that doesn't make the reality of having a deployed spouse any easier.And when her son's principal calls to say that he's in trouble - well. Rey really misses her husband.





	Let the Stars Keep Track of Us

**Author's Note:**

> rated G, but with one offensive curse word. 
> 
>  
> 
> (This is complete fluff, and I'm still not sure where it came from)

The sun broke through the eastward windows of the bedroom, and Rey woke halfway, shifting backwards into the warm body behind her.

“Morning, Sunshine,” a soft voice murmured in her ear. Rey smiled at the greeting, her eyes not opening, and she sighed happily while a large, calloused hand slid from her shoulder, down her arm, to her hand on the pillow. She felt her husband trace the ring he’d put on her finger seven years ago, and she allowed him to lift her hand to his mouth and press a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

“Is it morning already?” she asked serenely. He snorted a laugh into her neck and began to lay patient kisses along her neck. Pleasure blended with happiness, bright and sweet in her gut, and Rey shuddered from the feeling. “It can’t be morning yet.”

“It can, and it is,” he insisted. “Get up, sweetheart, Bee’s waiting for you.”

“He’s your child before 8:00 a.m.,” Rey teased playfully, and Poe laughed, rough and sweet in her ear. They both knew she didn’t mean it. That wasn’t how things worked.

“Get up, Rey,” Poe whispered, pulling away from her. In the distance, a trash truck was backing up, judging by the loud beeping. “It’s time to wake up.”

Rey gasped and sat upright; the bed next to her was empty and cold, just like it had been every morning for the last 91 mornings. In the doorway, Bartholomew Dameron stared at her, an eyebrow raised, toothbrush tucked into his mouth.

“Morning, love,” Rey said, wiping a hand down her face. “You’re up already? Good for you, little man!” She tried to sound cheerful and not like she’d been hit by a truck – she hadn’t had such vivid dreams since she was pregnant, but with Poe gone for three months, they’d been getting more and more realistic. She’d been so sure he was there lying next to her; it was agony to wake up and realize it wasn’t true. Tears were still in her eyes while she slid off the bed and smiled at her son.

“But mom, ‘s seven firty,” he mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

‘It’s _what_?” Rey shrieked, looking at the clock. “Oh, bugger.”

“Dad says das a bad word,” Bartholomew chided her, and Rey rolled her eyes, scurrying to gently push him back towards the bathroom.

“Make sure you rinse your mouth and pee,” Rey said, patting between his shoulder blades once she’d gotten him turned around, “and—”

“Get the lunches from the fridge!”

“That’s my Bee,” Rey cheered before staggering to the closet and throwing on a semblance of an outfit. She went for a green dress and black leggings, slipping on soft boots before walking into her own bathroom. She grimaced at the circles under her eyes, and while she brushed her teeth, she sprayed dry shampoo on her roots with her free hand, mussing her hair to spread the powder quickly.

Rey spat and rinsed before putting her hair up; she goofily pulled it into three pieces for a moment, a throwback to when she was in her early twenties, before settling on a much more manageable ponytail. Bee was in her doorway again when she came back out, and she grabbed her water bottle from her dresser and his hand.

“Ready, dude?” She asked, walking to the front door. She grabbed her satchel, and he grabbed his backpack.

“Ready!” Bee grinned at her, and they high fived before heading out the door.

“Last day before Winter Holiday!” Rey cheered when they reached the car. Bee hopped up into his car seat and rolled his eyes at her.

“It’s called Winter Break, Mommy,” he said haughtily. Rey bopped him on the nose and buckled him in.

“If you roll your eyes they’re going to get stuck like that,” she warned.

“That’s not true.”

“Nah, but I will ground you,” Rey said cheerfully, closing his door and opening her own.

***

Rey checked the rearview mirror before switching lanes, and she smiled at her boy in the backseat. He was singing along happily to the CD Poe had made, a collection of songs in English and Spanish he’d recorded a year ago before he was deployed for two months. It quickly became Bee’s favorite thing to listen to, and Rey not-so-secretly loved it too.

“Hey baby, remember what we talked about?” Rey asked, gnawing on her lip. “About Reginald Hux?”

“I guess.” Bee made a sour face, and Rey laughed despite herself, looking back at the road.

“I was being serious, honey bear – you can’t just punch people like that. You’re lucky Ms. Connix chose not to send you two to the principal.” That’s the last thing Rey needed. Bee had already been there a spectacular four times this school year.

“Daddy says bad people are worth fighting,” Bee said, glaring out the window with a stubborn set to his jaw that Rey knew all too well, having first seen it on his father before Bee was even an idea.

“Reginald isn’t a bad person,” Rey said softly.

“No. He’s a twat.”

Rey almost jerked the wheel in surprise. “Bartholomew Beren Dameron! Do _not_ say that word!”

“Why not? You told Daddy that Reginald’s dad was a twat. So that must mean Reggie’s a twat, too.”

“Bee!” Rey was torn between laughing and horror. “Mommy shouldn’t have said that word either – she didn’t know you were listening! It’s only for grownups, and it should only be said about grownups.”

“Hmm.” Bee didn’t sound convinced, but the school was within sight, and Rey sighed with relief.

“I mean it, Bee boy, do _not_ get into fights, and do not say bad grownup words. I’m sorry that you heard me say it.”

“Okay,” Bee sighed and grabbed his backpack. “But what if Reggie’s picking on someone? He was being a bully. I hada punch him.”

“Then you tell an adult,” Rey said firmly. “It’s very noble of you to step in, but it’s better if you get Ms. Connix next time because she can help Reggie make a better decision.” She pulled into the drop off lane and put the car in park so she could turn around and fix her son with a glare. “And she can’t exactly teach him a proper lesson if you’re brawling in the dirt with him, right?”

“Right.” Bee didn’t look convinced, but he smiled at her and unbuckled quickly. He darted forward and kissed Rey on the cheek. “Love you, Mommy.”

“Love you too, my little star.” Rey ran her hand through his tousled brown curls and waved fondly at him while he hopped out of the car. “Be kind, and be brave, and be you.”

“You too, Mommy.” Bee grinned at her, and Rey briefly got choked up, smiling back at him with water in her eyes.

Too late, she realized –

 “Wait, baby, you forgot your –” Bee had already closed his door and was sprinting towards Paige Tico, Peter Wexley, and Rachel Lintra-Pava, his Paw Patrol backpack bouncing wildly. “—Homework.” Rey sighed and drove out of the drop-off lane, waving at Vice Principal Holdo who beamed at her and waved back.

Holdo had a special place in Rey’s heart for not expelling Bee after he set that fire two months ago (“I like his spirit,” she said shrugging before setting a warm hand on Rey’s shoulder and saying, “And don’t worry. You’re doing a wonderful job, mom.”). She also thought her purple hair was wicked, but she’d never say that to her face still a little leery of authority figures in the school setting. Rey wasn’t exactly a star pupil in her early days, too busy scrapping in the dirt and trying to prove that she was tough, that no one could touch her even though she was a scholarship kid, a charity case (People always thought Bee’s spunk and fire came from Poe – whenever that was said in earshot of her husband, he would simply roar with laughter – he’d been an utter brownnoser in his childhood).

She pulled up to the stoplight on Wobani Lane and tapped her hands on the steering wheel. She considered getting a coffee before work, but she shook her head and sighed. It was all peppermint crap this time of year, and with Poe not coming home for Christmas – she winced and tried not to think about it. He’d sounded so dejected when he’d told her a month ago, and she’d done her best to be upbeat about it – “We’ll just have to have Christmas in January,” she assured him, “Bee won’t care, he’ll just be happy you’re home,” but Poe had cried anyway, and she’d cried too, if only because the sight of him crying in some crappy little tent God knows where had broken her heart – No. She wouldn’t think about it, wouldn’t think about cold, empty sides of the bed, or of Bee’s endless drawings of a man with curly hair and an orange suit and a spaceship (“So he can get home faster!” he’d told her when she’d asked why a spaceship and not the Lightning II, and she’d gone into the living room to cry under the pretense of picking up toys), or about Christmas for two and not three, or Poe’s phone call last week, when he’d looked so tired, but tentatively happy when he told her he had a surprise, some news about his career.

She assumed the news was that he was up for Lieutenant Colonel. He’d been a Major basically since they were married, and he was well-liked and incredibly talented, an ace pilot who didn’t have the typical flyboy attitude. No, her pilot was silly and kind and patient with everyone, who listened to his superiors and respected the people he trained, a good solider and a better man – Rey wiped a tear away from her cheek and laughed at herself. She wasn’t a crier, not really, but the last ninety days or so had tested that fact.

Rey picked up Bee’s homework to distract herself while waiting to make the final turn into her office building.

It was a worksheet meant for his Social Studies folder (it hadn’t quite got there, and she’d send a note to Ms. Connix later) with a box with drawing that if she squinted, sort of looked like a round ball with an oddly shaped head and antennae (Bee insisted on drawing himself as a robot, something she’d worry about if he was still doing at nine, but at six, she wouldn’t analyze it too much) and a stick figure of a man with an odd moustache.

“If I Had a Time Machine, I would…”was carefully lettered in the space for the title, in Bee’s best handwriting. He must have copied it from the board.

On the lines below, he’d written, “…punch hetler in the fac!!” Oh, jeez.

“Well, at least now I know why he asked me how to spell punch,” Rey muttered, setting the paper down on the passenger seat and accelerating after the light turned green.

***

Luke came into her office after lunch and grinned at her. “Hey, kid, I’m going to head out for about an hour. I don’t have anything else for you to work on today, so feel free to take off whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Luke.” Rey beamed at him, and he waved before walking to the door of their office, his Birkenstocks flopping merrily against the laminate floor.

She loved her job, and she owed Luke a great deal – not many architects would take on an employee with no graduate degree and very little formal training, but he’d spotted her work during undergrad when he’d visited his alma mater, and had insisted she come work for him when she graduated, saying she was a natural, with raw talent that he could help her hone. They did quite well for themselves, and Luke was terribly fond of Bee, and not terribly fond of strict rules, which meant that he was more than accommodating of her need for a flexible schedule.

And thank God for that fact, because not even ten minutes after Luke had taken off, Rey got a call on her cell phone. It was the school. Her heart pounded with anxiety, and she picked it up, already wincing. “H-hello?” She squeaked.

“Mrs. Dameron.” It was Principal Ackbar. “I’m calling about Bartholomew. There’s a situation.”

Oh, crap. “A situation?” Rey repeated. “Is everything alright?”

“We’re in the middle of our winter assembly, ma’am, and he’s – well, he’s climbed up on the basketball hoop, and he’s refusing to come down.”

“He _what_?” Rey stared at her desk and her most recent draft in horror. “He – how did he get up there?” And why didn’t anyone stop him?

“Ma’am, a rescue team is on its way, but if it’s alright with you, I’d rather you be here when they are. Bartholomew’s insisting that he won’t come down until his parents are here.”

Rey sighed and pinched her nose. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ackbar. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“See that you are.” He hung up the phone, and Rey winced again. Well, that was ominous.

She sent a quick email to Luke explaining where she went (and that she’d probably have Bee with her when she came back because she had a feeling they’d want to start his suspension now) and grabbed her things, sprinting to the car.

Rey hopped in and shoved the keys into the ignition, pulling out of her spot quickly, rolling her eyes when she spotted Bee’s homework on her passenger seat. “If I had a time machine,” she muttered to herself, flying through town towards Yavin Elementary. “Oh- ho-ho, if _I_ had a time machine, I’d go back to when I was 21 and sitting in that bar, and I would say, ‘Look, lady, a really stupidly hot man’s about to walk in and smile at you, and you should _definitely_ not smile back because he’ll undoubtedly say some charming things that make you laugh and feel special; and then he’ll spend the next eight months making you feel special and being sweet and generally perfect and thoughtful – but you shouldn’t fall for it! Nope! Not because he isn’t sweet, and not because he doesn’t think you’re special,” she threw on her left turn signal and pulled into the lane, the elementary school in sights, “No, no, all those things are true, but if you _do_ smile at him, if you _do_ make that mistake, you should remember when he gets down on one knee and says ‘you gave me the sun, so let me give you the moon, sweetheart,’ that he’s a flipping fighter pilot and regularly risks his life and generally has to leave for massive swaths of time. So, remember that while you’re melting into a puddle because he looks like Prince Eric had a sexy Hispanic cousin with better hair, remember that he’ll knock you up at 23 and then the child will be a holy terror, and you’ll love them both desperately, but you’ll also be finding chunks of hair in the shower drain because the two of them are _killing you._ ”

She shrieked the last part while flying into a parking spot; Rey barely took the time to grab her bag before launching out of the car and hurrying towards the entrance of the school, finishing her exhausted tirade with, “So yeah, Davies, don’t just let your visa lapse because a certain Captain Dameron walks into that bar and your life and tells you to stay with him, no, no, go back to Cambridgeshire or else you’ll be fielding calls about your scary-ass kid trying out for the Olympics by climbing gym equipment.” Rey shook her head and slammed her palm against the intercom for the front office.

“Hello?” A tinny voice answered.

“Hi,” Rey didn’t sound angry anymore; truthfully she never was, and truthfully she wouldn’t trade her life for anything, but she really just needed to vent. She made a mental note to call Rose later for a girls’ night; they could have a sleepover with Bee and Paige. “Hi, this is Rey Davies-Dameron? The principal called about my son-“ She fumbled for her ID as she spoke, but a tired sigh came through the intercom before she could pull out her wallet.

“ _Bartholomew_. Yep. Come on in.” The buzzer rang, and the door unlocked; Rey shuddered at how exasperated the secretary sounded and fixed a nervous grin on her face while walking in through the doors, smoothing her hair out as well.

Principal Ackbar stood in the front hall, his hands folded behind his back. He was a large, older man, and Rey typically liked his no-nonsense attitude – Poe had been particularly impressed with him, whispering “ _I’ve seen less scary drill sergeants,”_ at Back to School Night – but right now she felt as though she were the naughty child due for a scolding. She smiled at him as brightly as possible, and Ackbar shook his head, gesturing towards the gymnasium.

“Mrs. Dameron,” he sighed. “Follow me.” Rey trotted down the hall after him, her heart pounding in her throat. He looked mildly disapproving, not upset, so Bee was safe, right? That’s really what mattered, and if he was going to be expelled, she could find him private school somewhere, they could – they could make it work, the money might be tight, but he could still –

“Is my son alright?” Rey asked, her voice high and oddly tight. “Please, I’m – I’m sorry for whatever damage he caused, really, but is he –“

“He’ll be fine.” The hallway seemed both terribly long and horribly short, and Rey briefly looked into one of the classrooms when they passed; empty, with bright colored paper all over the walls, laminated anchor charts near the windows, and art supplies out on the desks. They must have had Specials before the assembly; it was Friday, so Bee would have had P.E. today.

It was probably too much to ask that P.E. would have tired him out to the point where he didn’t, you know, climb a basketball hoop in the middle of the assembly.

“Right in here, Mrs. Dameron.” The principal opened the door to the gymnasium, and Rey steeled herself – telling herself it was just her imagination that had her feeling like a lamb led to slaughter – and walked in.

The students were gathered for the assembly, sitting criss-cross-apple sauce, and they all turned as one when the door opened to stare at her. Rey didn’t bother blushing, instead looking up at the suspiciously vacant basketball hoop. He must have come down, then.

Vice Principal Holdo was up front, and Bee was standing on the stage next to her – bloody Hell, but Americans did discipline oddly, were they going to shame both of them in front of the student body? – and Amilyn smiled at Rey before speaking into the microphone.

“Now, I know you’re all excited for the last part of our assembly. But I need Mrs. Dameron to come up here for a second.” She gestured at Rey eagerly, and her feet responded before her brain could. Rey tripped up the aisle in the middle of the assembled students, a small pathway that led to the stage. She climbed up on the stage and walked directly to Bee, who grinned at her.

“Are you in trouble?” Rey hissed, beyond confused. Bee shook his head and then pointed at Holdo, shushing her; Rey had half a mind to tell him right here and now that sons didn’t hush their moms, not when they wanted dessert that night, but Holdo started talking again.

“Now, let’s give a big, Yavin Rebel welcome to one of our alumni – one of my own students, in fact – to Major Poe Dameron!”

The floor must have given out from underneath her because Rey felt like she was in free fall – she never woke up this morning, this was a dream, this wasn’t happening –

The doors opened one more time, the doors she had just walked through, and Principal Ackbar was _grinning_ – who knew his mouth could make that shape – and ushering in a very, very familiar person.

Poe was wearing his flight uniform, the olive green a perfect compliment to his tan skin and salt and pepper hair. Rey drank the sight of him in, desperately begging for this to be _real,_ and if it were a dream, that she’d never wake up, just stay here in this perfect moment where her husband’s warm brown eyes met hers across a gymnasium while hundreds of people screamed and cheered.

“Surprise!” Bee shouted, tugging on her hand before jumping off the stage and sprinting to his father. Poe scooped him up at the end of the aisle and walked towards the stage, carrying Bee easily, the boy talking a mile a minute, gesturing wildly up at Rey –

Who was still standing there, frozen in shock while Amilyn Holdo cheered with the rest of the students, who was still frozen by the time Poe and Bee reached the stage. Poe let Bee go, and he sprinted over to Holdo, shouting, “I told you she’d freak out!” and Holdo was hugging Bee, her purple hair clashing with his orange t-shirt, and what a detail to be caught up on when –

“Hey, Sunshine.” Poe stood in front of her, and Rey stared at him, still absolutely immobilized by shock. He reached out slowly and wiped her cheek, and Rey realized that she was crying when his hand pulled away shining with tears, and he laughed and the sound of it, the sound of _home_ shook her from her stupor.

“Poe!” She shouted, launching herself into his arms. He kissed her eagerly, arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her momentarily, her feet leaving the ground while she re-familiarized herself with the shape of his lips, the feeling of his mouth on hers. It was over sooner than she’d prefer, but they _were_ in an elementary school – Bee and Poe must have planned this, she realized, those little sneaks – and he was home, he was here, she could kiss him properly later.

She remembered what he’d said on Skype the other day. “Was this the news?” Rey asked, tears freely falling from her eyes. Poe laughed shakily and wiped them away kissing her cheeks and holding her tightly while the school continued to cheer in front of them (Bee was doing an odd little dance that seemed strangely ritualistic, something she’d worry about later when she wasn’t so happy).

“Nah,” Poe grinned at her and shook his head. “No, I mean – the news is something different.”

“Are we pregnant?” She joked. Principal Ackbar was trying to settle the students down now, and Poe leaned in to whisper in her ear:

“I got approval from TERA. I can retire early. Like, now.”

Rey stared at him in shock, and the auditorium fell silent as well – really the work of Ackbar and not the earth-shattering news her husband just handed her – and Poe laughed at how her mouth was hanging open, tapping her jaw lightly before turning and shaking Ackbar and Holdo’s hands, Bee clinging to his right leg.

Poe scooped their son up and kissed his face over and over again, and Rey remembered how to smile, how to move, how to laugh and rushed forward to embrace her boys.

***

Bee was allowed to go home early (Ms. Connix smiled extra wide when she wished them a Merry Christmas), and Bee walked between them, holding onto her right hand and Poe's left, as they headed out the front doors into the cheerful North Carolina sun. Every few steps he’d launch himself up, and Poe and Rey would help him stay elevated so he could swing his feet around for a couple seconds before touching back to earth again.

“Best Christmas ever!” Bee declared when they reached the car. Rey unlocked it, and Bee clambered in, dragging his backpack by one strap in a way that would bug her if she wasn’t so damn happy.

“Not Christmas yet, buddy,” Poe reminded him, eyes locked on Rey’s while he leaned in and rested his forehead against hers for a minute. “It’s December 21st.”

“Fine. Best December 21st ever!” Bee corrected.

Poe’s hands were warm and familiar on her waist, and Rey was overwhelmed by the surge of emotions that threatened to make her cry for the tenth time that day. “I love you, Sunshine,” he whispered, too quietly for Bee to hear. “Is this a good time to say that my dad’s coming up from Guatemala next week so I can take you on a proper date?”

She giggled, and Poe darted in to kiss her quickly, sweetly before pulling back to wink at her. “Room for one more back there, pal?” He asked his son, climbing into the backseat of the Subaru. Rey leaned against the open door for a second, just admiring the view of her husband buckling their son in, kissing his head, before buckling himself.

“I love you,” Rey said, knowing that there was no truer statement in the galaxy.

“Love you too!” came the sweetest duet of voices she’d ever heard.

Yeah. Best December 21st ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Title of work from Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli: 
> 
> "Do not follow me! Let's just be fabulously where we are and who we are. You be you and I'll be me, today and today and today, and let's trust the future to tomorrow. Let the stars keep track of us. Let us ride our own orbits and trust they will meet."
> 
>  
> 
> thanks for reading, xo


End file.
